


Little Romance

by SugarsweetRomantic



Series: Fridget Drabbles Galore! [1]
Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Drabble Collection, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2018-09-08 10:51:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 2,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8841715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SugarsweetRomantic/pseuds/SugarsweetRomantic
Summary: You're in the mood for loveYou're in the mood to danceYou're in the mood for a little romanceYou're in the mood for love~ Little Romance, Ingrid Michaelson





	1. Lost

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a 30-day writing OTP challenge that can be found here: https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/9b/97/e0/9b97e057e61a7966ca5c3c3e755bb630.jpg

“I swear I thought she said: take the second left and then the third right!” Franky exclaimed.

“Well, obviously she didn’t, or else we would’ve found it by now.” Bridget sighed deeply, running her hand through her hair. It was summer in Melbourne, and temperatures had risen high. She could feel the sweat running down her back. She was uncomfortably hot, and her patience was running out.

“It has to be around here somewhere. We have to be close.” Franky pulled her phone out of her pocket and furiously began searching for the correct location. “Where are we at?”

“We’re at Carrington Road.” Bridget flopped onto a nearby bench.

“Then it should be on the other side of Box Hill Central over there. Come on!” Grinning, Franky pulled her back up. Together, they walked around the shopping centre, through the sweltering heat, until their destination finally came into view. Relieved, Bridget read the sign on the building: “Family Planning Victoria.”

“We made it, Gidge!”


	2. Pet

“Hey baby?” Bridget’s warm alto voice carried through the rooms of her home.

“Yeah, Gidge?” Franky called back into the general direction from where she’d heard her voice.

“I was wondering,” Bridget announced as she exited the bathroom and made her way down the hallway, “why did you start calling me that?” Franky’s brow furrowed, and she asked: “That?”

“Gidget.” Smirking, Franky commented: “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say it out loud! I don’t know. It fit ya. It still does. Why? Does it bother you?” The psychologist shook her head,

“Not when you say it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for taking the time for reading this! Let me know what you thought?


	3. Care

The only warning Franky got was a loud: “Fuck!” before she saw Bridget and two boxes of Christmas decorations falling down the stairs of their newly acquired home. She shot up from the chair she was nursing her coffee on and nearly flew over to the blonde.

“Jesus Christ, Gidge, are you okay?” Bridget groaned softly as she attempted to get up from her awkward position on the floor. Trying to put weight on her ankle resulted in a hiss and a drop back to the floor. Shaking her head, Franky interjected: “Don’t move. I’m going to go get the first-aid kit.” Within a minute she had retrieved the orange-coloured kit from the kitchen cupboards, and sat back down next to Bridget. Opening the box, her eyes widened at all of the different supplies.

“I, uh, I’m a bit lost here.” She bit her bottom lip. Bridget laid a hand on top of Franky’s knee.

“Do you think you can follow my instructions?” she asked. The brunette nodded.

“Okay. I seem to have a cut in my calf. Look for a small plastic bottle labelled ‘alcohol-chlorhexidine’ and a package that says ‘adhesive island dressing’.” Nodding again, Franky got to work.


	4. Brand-new

Bridget looked to her left as they walked through the hallways of the hospital. Franky seemed to be getting paler by the second.

“We’ll catch up with you, okay?” she announced. Will and Linda turned around, shrugged, and continued down the corridor. Pulling Franky to the side, she asked: “Baby, what’s wrong?” Franky’s eyes darted to the floor.

“I’ve never done this before, Gidge. I don’t know what to say; what to do!” Smiling, Bridget reassured her: “You’ll be just fine. I promise. As long as you don’t curse, it’ll all be okay.” Franky raised an eyebrow at her.

“You do realise who you’re talking to, right?” Chuckling, Bridget playfully swatted the younger woman’s arm.

“Come on. Let’s go. They’ll be wondering where we ran off to.” She grabbed Franky’s hand and pulled her towards the correct room before the brunette could object. “Hi,” she whispered as they entered.

“He’s so tiny!” Franky exclaimed rather loudly. Bridget winced at the volume. The younger woman approached the bassinet and found big blue eyes staring back at her. “He’s beautiful.”

“Well done, Vera. Congratulations. Matt, you too,” Bridget told the tired woman in the hospital bed. Franky was mesmerised by the little bundle in the crib, completely oblivious to everything around her. Smiling softly, Bridget thought: ‘Told you so.’


	5. Flawed

It was summer, and Franky and Bridget were relaxing in the heat at one of Melbourne’s many beaches. Trailing her fingers across the blonde’s abdomen, Franky encountered a small rough mark in her skin.

“Gidge? How’d you get this?” Bridget had to blink a few times, having nearly fallen asleep in the February sun. Clearing her throat, she replied: “Appendectomy.” Feeling Franky’s fingers trail further, she closed her eyes again. She felt the brunette’s digits encounter the longer, bilaterally extended mark at the very top of her pelvis.

“And this one?” The psychologist sat up and crossed her legs, the cicatrix disappearing beneath the fabric of her bikini bottoms. Chuckling nervously, she asked: “Why are you so interested in my scars all of a sudden?”

“Well,” Franky began, sitting up to face the older woman, “you know the stories behind all of my scars by now, but I don’t know anything about yours.” Nodding, Bridget reclined once more.

 “Ask me again, then.”


	6. Networking

“How can you not know how Facebook works?” Bridget exclaimed, giggling. “Even my mum has a Facebook page!” Huffing, Franky responded: “I missed out on a lot while I was inside, okay? Including technology stuff.”

Bridget shook her head, her body trembling with laughter: “Na-uh, Francesca Doyle, you’re not getting out of this one that easily. Facebook well existed way before you got into Wentworth.” The brunette scoffed, placing her hands on her hips.

“Well maybe I had more important things to attend to than a bunch of virtual friends! You know, like, actual human contact, Miss attached-to-my-phone?” She nodded towards the smartphone in the blonde’s hands.

“That’s it.” Bridget nearly threw the device down on the table. Franky looked up at her with big, expectant eyes.

“We’re making you a Facebook account. Right now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being absent for a while! Ah, the chaotic joys of the holiday season... I hope you all have lovely holidays if you celebrate, and otherwise, I wish you a lovely final weeks of the year! Have fun, eat great food, and stay safe out there!


	7. Grief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mentions of death

“Heya!” Franky yelled at the sound of the front door opening and closing. The familiar noise of Bridget’s heels clicking across the wooden floors caused a nearly ridiculous feeling of happiness to flood her limbs and fill her body. She frowned when she didn’t hear the ‘Hey baby!’ she’d gotten used to.

“Heya! You okay there Gidge?” she called out again, lowering the heat of the stove to gently let the beef she was preparing simmer. She heard a small, soft hum coming from the hallway, Bridget’s way of letting her know she’d heard her but wouldn’t answer yet. Franky wiped her hands on a piece of paper towel and walked out into the living area to encounter Bridget standing in the middle of the room, her back turned towards Franky.

“You’re later than I expected, did everything go okay?” Her heart dropped into her stomach at the sight of her girlfriend when the blonde turned around to face her. She looked pale; her eyes were bloodshot and her makeup was smudged.

“Jesus, fuck Gidge, what the fuck happened?” She took the psychologist’s hands and led the both of them to the couch. Gently coaxing her to sit down, she gathered her in her arms and wrapped them both in a soft blanket. Bridget let out a shaky breath, tears running down her cheeks.

“I don’t know how to tell you this,” she admitted, trembling slightly in the embrace. Franky felt her worry increase by the second.

She could never have seen Bridget’s next statement coming.

“Ferguson killed Bea. Bea’s dead.”

She felt like she had been kicked in the stomach.


	8. Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T

Franky Doyle always woke up at 7:00. Three years of conditioning at Wentworth would do that to a person. Today was no exception. The only difference? Contrary to her time in Wentworth, she could now curl up to the woman laying beside her, close her eyes, and attempt to sleep once more.

 

She smiled at the feeling of the warm morning sun on her cheeks. Maybe she would get up instead; go for a run, and make Bridget breakfast in bed. The blonde psychologist loved sleep, and usually spent the first few hours of her Saturday mornings lazing around in bed with a book or a magazine. Franky thought it was absolutely adorable. She turned onto her side and attempted to get up, but an arm suddenly being draped across her waist held her in place. Grinning, she shifted around until she was facing her girlfriend. Girlfriend, that was such an amazing word to say.

"Morning, Gidge." Bridget mumbled something unintelligible in response. "In a cuddly mood?" Franky asked, chuckling at the sight of the blonde. She was nearly buried under the doona. The only way she could recognise her was the fanned-out gold-coloured hair on the pillow. Bridget hummed in acknowledgement, followed by a: "Stay here."

 

Smiling, Franky snuggled up to the woman beside her.

  
Freedom was fucking fantastic.


	9. Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: G

Bridget loved touching Franky. She loved the feeling of her skin under her palms, letting her fingers comb through the brunette's hair, or the sensation of her lips pressing against her own. Nothing, absolutely nothing, however, made her happier than hugging the younger woman. She could lose herself entirely in their embrace, hiding her face in the other woman’s chest, and revelling in the protective feeling of Franky’s strong, muscular arms surrounding her petite form. Bridget Westfall might be a confident, strong woman, but in her core her deepest desire was to feel protected and taken care of in the sanctuary of her home. 

Franky loved touching Bridget. She loved the feeling of her body against hers, letting the woman seek refuge in her arms, or the sensation of her lips pressing against her own. She loved holding Bridget. 

So when Bridget and she were sitting in a hospital waiting room while Bridget’s father was undergoing emergency surgery, she held her. As tightly as she could. 

It would not make everything better, but for now, it made everything okay.


	10. Rest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T

Franky loved everything about Bridget. She loved how she left the scientific articles she was researching strewn across the table. She loved her quirky taste in interior decorating - the mess of colours that somehow seemed to work in the large open-plan home. She loved how she cursed at other drivers in an adorably Bridget way. She loved how she couldn't cook to save her life, but the woman was a master at baking. Tess had received a beautiful dolphin-themed cake for her fifth birthday and she'd been in seventh heaven, telling all of her friends her  _ sister's girlfriend had made that _ ! She loved how Bridget would melt when confronted with baby animals; or baby anything for that matter. She loved the tiny imperfections of the psychologist’s body that made her real. She loved the gentle hint of grey hiding underneath the golden colour of her hair. 

She loved all of her. But most of all, Franky loved watching her sleep. The peaceful beauty and vulnerable trust was mesmerising to her, and she could watch her for hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me forever to figure something out for this prompt!


	11. Relax

Franky Doyle wasn’t the kind of person to spend the entire bed in day. She loved getting up early, being on her feet, not being confined to a single room. So, when Bridget grumbled: “Stay,” when she tried to escape the satin sheets at eight in the morning on Valentine’s Day, she decided to compromise.

“Come to the living room with me; I’ll make ya a cocoon.” The blonde huffed in response, but after spending such a long time in Bridget’s presence, Franky knew the difference between an affirmative huff and a dissenting one. This was the former. 

Shrouded in the bedding, the two women made their way to the sofa, and Franky carefully encased Bridget with blankets, allowing her to continue her slumber, curled up against the brunette. Franky grabbed her book from the coffee table and retrieved a water bottle she had left on the floor the previous evening, and relaxed against the cushions. It was their version of a perfect lazy day.


	12. Education

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that I have uploaded two chapters at once: 11. Relax & 12\. Education. :)

“I can’t believe you don’t know how to do this,” Bridget commented, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. The summer sun was blisteringly hot, and being outside at noon wasn’t exactly her idea of a great way to spend the afternoon.

“I can’t belive you  _ do  _ know how to do this!” Franky countered, watching closely as the blonde demonstrated the correct steps. 

“You lift this, then pull this out,” the psychologist instructed, cringing inwardly at the filth that immediately coated her fingers as she accidentally let it slip. “You clean it, and check the level,” she continued, inspecting the dipstick scrupulously. “This needs a refill.” She motioned for Franky to hand her the bottle marked ‘5W-40’. 

“That’s all?” the brunette asked incredulously.

“That’s all,” Bridget confirmed. “It’s not rocket science, babe.” Winking, she patted Franky’s bum. “Okay, that was my car. Now it’s your turn.”


End file.
